Chapter 41

Skirting the low wooden bench, I edged closer to the far wall. As quietly as I could, I pushed aside some sturdy metal clothes-hangers and nestled myself in the narrow gap that I'd just made.

Through the closet wall, I heard Bishop's voice, low and dangerous. "Don't tell me you fucked her."

Instantly, heat flooded my face. Like this was any of his concern.

"For the last time," Jake said, "it's none of your fucking business."

I felt myself nod. Exactly.

"Yeah?" Bishop said. "What's your story this time? Wait. Lemme guess. She fell just happened to fall naked into your bed?" His voice rose. "Like Debbie?"

I stiffened. Debbie? Who was that?

"She's no Debbie," Jake said. "And keep it down, will ya? She's still asleep."

"I wouldn’t count on that," Bishop said.

"Trust me," Jake said. "If she slept through some asshole pounding on the door at dawn, she can sleep through anything."

"So," Bishop said, "you fuck my girl's little sister, and I'm the asshole?"

I rolled my eyes. Little sister? Oh please. I wasn't twelve. I was twenty-three. Why couldn’t anyone seem to remember that?

"Yeah," Jake said. "You are the asshole. Because one – in case you didn't notice, she's all grown up now." His voice softened. "And two – I didn't 'fuck' her." He paused. "It was something different."

I felt myself smile.

"Like what?" Bishop said. "Another blow-job under the bleachers?"

What?

For a long moment, no one said anything. Finally, Jake broke the silence. "Get the fuck out," he said.

"You wanna make me?" Bishop asked.

"No," Jake said in an oddly controlled voice, "not with her in the next room. But I am asking you, politely."

"You?" Bishop said. "Polite? That'll be the day."

"Look who's talking," Jake said.

"Listen," Bishop said, "I'm not trying to be a dick about it."

"Too late for that."

"But," Bishop continued, "she's not your type. I know it. You know it. So if you're just messing around…"

"So I have a type now?" Jake said. "Wanna tell me what it is?"

"You know what type it is." Bishop said. "Come on, be reasonable. Selena's worried about her."

"You are such a pussy," Jake said.

The sentiment was so silly, I stifled a laugh. Bishop was a pussy the way cats were motorcycles.

"So what's the deal?" Jake continued. "Your fiancée says jump, and you say 'how high?' She says, 'fetch my sister,' and you say, 'yes ma'am.'"

"If you're trying to piss me off," Bishop said, "give it up. I'm not here to fight with you."

"Could've fooled me," Jake said.

"And," Bishop said, "Selena doesn't know I'm here."

"So," Jake said, "you're back to the secretive shit. She'll just love that."

"What she'll love," Bishop said, "is finding out that her sister's okay."

"And away from me," Jake said. "Am I right?" He gave a humorless laugh. "Too bad. Because Luna's not going anywhere."

"Shouldn't we get her opinion?" Bishop said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Jake said, "I don't want you bothering her."

After a long pause, Bishop asked. "What's up with you, anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Bull," Bishop said. "Shouldn't you be glad to be rid of her?"

"Why's that?"

"Because you already fucked her," Bishop said. "Why keep her around, right?"

My jaw dropped. What a total dick. Or, as Jake had said, what an asshole. But then again, I'd always known that.

Whatever my sister saw in the guy, I had no idea. Well, except for the fact that he looked almost exactly like Jake. And he was a bad-ass. And, if my sister's implications were true, he was obscenely good in bed.

Come to think of it, Jake and Bishop weren't that different. Oh crap. Maybe my sister and I were both stupid.

Through the wall, I heard a thud. I tensed. What was that? A chair falling?

And then Bishop laughed. "What are you gonna do? Kick my ass?"

A long silence followed.

Finally, when Jake spoke again, his voice was scarily calm, almost casual. "I've got an idea," Jake said. "Let's head back to your place. We'll talk shit about your girl." He gave a low laugh. "About you fucking her, or not fucking her—"

"Shut up," Bishop said.

"Oh, am I getting too personal?" Sarcasm oozed through the wall. "Sorry."

"Just do me a favor," Bishop said. "Wake her up. Let me talk to her."

"Not a chance."

"Fine," Bishop said. "I'll wait."

"The hell you will."

Damn it. I didn't want Bishop to wait either. And really, what the hell was I doing? Hunkering down in some closet? Eavesdropping on a conversation that was supposed to be private? Had I no shame at all?

Apparently not.

Still, I'd hidden long enough. It was time for me to confront this head-on. I pushed away from the closet wall. But when I turned, my head bumped those stupid metal hangers. They clattered, first against each other, and then onto the tile floor.

The metallic noise sounded way too huge in the small space. My heart thudded, and I held myself absolutely still. I tried to listen. I heard nothing from the neighboring room – no voices, no footsteps. Desperate to be out of there fast, I took a long step forward, forgetting to watch where I was going.

Suddenly, something hard smacked me in the face. The floor. I was lying face-first across it. Near my feet, that stupid bench was lying on its side. Damn it.

I had barely begun to push myself up when I heard footsteps. They stopped just outside the master bedroom door. Recalling the lock, I breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

"Luna?" Jake called. The doorknob rattled. "Shit," he muttered. A moment later, he called out, "You okay?"

Oh God, how embarrassing. Before I could answer, he called out again. "Luna? Baby? Say something, alright?"

I groaned, not in pain, but in humiliation. "Um, yeah," I called. "I'm okay. I just, uh, I tripped. That's all."

The doorknob rattled again. "Sure you're okay?" he called. "Let me in, alright?"

Soon, I heard Bishop's voice. "Here. Lemme get it."

Oh God. He was out there too? Muttering, I pushed myself off the floor and stood on shaky legs. Aside from my dignity, I wasn't hurt, or at least I didn't think so. I'd barely gotten to my feet when I heard the doorknob turn.

Crap.

A split-second later, I heard the bedroom door fly open and slam against the doorstop or whatever. Before I could react, Jake burst into the bathroom, wearing long black running pants and no shirt. He stopped short and peered into spacious area. Finally, he spotted me standing in his closet.

I suddenly recalled that I was wearing his clothes – clothes that I'd borrowed without his permission.

He plunged toward me. "Baby, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, giving him a shaky smile. "Just, uh, borrowing your clothes." With an unsteady laugh, I flicked my hand toward the bench. "I think that bench jumped out in front of me."

"You say the word," he said. "I'll fucking burn it."

I couldn’t help but laugh, for real this time. It was the second time in twenty-four hours that he'd mentioned burning something because of me. "First the dress," I said, "now this? What are you a pyro or something?"

From somewhere outside the master bedroom, I heard Bishop's voice, loud and clear. "Hey Jake," he called. "Know what you should do?"

Jake made a sound of annoyance. He turned called out through clenched teeth, "What?"

"Ask how long she was listening to us."

Damn it.